


The Deal

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta Natasha Romanov, Courting Rituals, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Kidnapping, M/M, Omega Sam Wilson, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-09-07 08:32:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Look, let’s make a deal. I get to leave,” Bucky shook his head, “Lemme finish. If I leave now, you can protect me from the shadows or whatever, then when everything is okay again you can court me. Deal?”-Getting kidnapped was never part of Sam's plan. Neither was getting released and courted by a headstrong alpha three months later.





	1. A Deal with the Devil

“My omega,” Sam blinked at the phrase, “My mate,” Shit.

There are different levels of being fucked.

Level one: Becoming good friends with a super soldier that’s got a death wish and an international spy lady who could kick his ass whom always get into trouble. 

Level two: Getting chased by a Hydra assassin who rips out your steering wheel and having your car wrecked. 

Level three: Getting your wing ripped off, kicked from a hellicarrier, and passing out. 

Somehow he’d skipped levels four through ninety-nine because waking up to aforementioned Hydra assassin calling you his omega/his mate AND being in an underground bunker at a location you don’t know is right up there at level one hundred. 

“Hey, uh Bucky. Look, buddy, I’m not an omega. I’m a beta, I can’t be your mate and you’re not working for Hydra anymore so how about you let me go and we go our separate ways?” Sam flinched when Bucky planted his face in his neck, nose prodding his at his glands. 

“You’ve been out for two weeks, your suppressants have worn off, omega. You smell like you should,” with that Bucky lapped at his glands before bringing his warm mouth over Sam’s neck and sucking hard. The omega keened, presenting his neck before snapping back to reality pushing the ex-asset away. He wasn’t sure to be happy or scared that Bucky hadn’t even bothered to tie him up. 

“First of all I have a name, it’s Sam. Use it. And second, I’m not your omega or your mate so how about you let me out of here so Steve doesn’t worry-”

Bucky growled lowly, his eyes turning to ice when he mentioned the other alpha. He leaned forward and nipped his hypersensitive glands, “You don’t need Steve. You have me,” Now, of course, Sam knew that was better than a punch to the face or anything else that could happen so he should stop while he was ahead. But then again, Sam had a death wish as well. 

“You don’t fucking own me! I can’t wait for Steve to find us and kick your ass!” He expected some bodily harm for that. To be slapped, maybe punched, heck even a roundhouse kick. But no, instead he got to lips on his own, a tongue in his mouth and teeth where they weren’t supposed to be. 

Bucky ravaged his mouth, licking and sucking anything he could. Utterly claiming the orifice and purging Steve’s name from his lips. Pulling away, Bucky licked his spit covered lips, looking at the bruised masterpiece left in his wake. Nosing Sam’s cheek he muttered in Russian, the only thing Sam understood was his name being said.   
                                                                                                           XX  
“Eat more, you lost a lot of weight,” More pasta was put on his plate replacing the second helping he just finished. It was good pasta. Cooked al dente with a savory ground turkey tomato sauce and even if it was childish, it was penne which was his favourite shape. Bucky also had presented him with an entire plate of garlic bread from which he only took two pieces. 

“You don’t gain back all your weight in a day. Plus, I’m full,” he said pushing the plate back. He hadn’t even lost that much weight, in the first place and he was pretty sure he gained it back, it’d been quite a while since he woke up. He was still slimmer, however, as his once defined muscles faded away without use. When he got out of here, he knew he had to hit the gym again. A real gym, not the exercise mat Bucky had in the corner and the pull up bar on the closet doorway. 

“Take another piece of bread. Strong omega, strong pups,” Bucky said picking up the plate. Sam almost groaned, they were still playing house. Soon after his first night, he realised Bucky hadn’t bothered to tie him up because the only way out was moving a reinforced steel door with nothing but brute force. No keypad, no locks, no hackable scanners. Just a big ass door that he had to move with his bare hands. So unless someone was giving away vibranium prosthetics or he suddenly got hit by a blast of gamma radiation, there was no way Sam was getting out anytime soon. Even worse, Bucky only left when he was sure Sam was either asleep or occupied, so the chance of him slipping out with the brunet was slim to none. Even if he did get out with Bucky, the man would probably pick him up by his collar and throwing him back inside. 

Accepting that the only way he was leaving was by someone else coming, he settled into his daily routine. Wake up, eat whatever monster sized breakfast (they never had breakfast foods though, probably cheaper to buy pasta in bulk than eggs) Bucky made (after trying to start a fire Sam was no longer allowed to cook) watch any number of documentaries and other films Bucky had picked up when he was out, and pretend he wasn’t uncomfortable with those blue eyes following his every movement. 

And, of course, fend of Bucky’s attempts at courting him. At least he was learning to be more subtle, even by a little bit. Feeding Sam more with the intention of “strong pups” was much better than trying to get him to show interest by rubbing his (quite large) erection on Sam’s behind, licking at his gland, and scenting him constantly. His first night after regaining consciousness, Sam made the mistake of falling asleep in Bucky’s bed which led to an uncomfortable morning where he woke up while the alpha was “promoting lactation”.

“I’m not having your pups, Barnes,” Sam knew how Stockholm Syndrome set it. If he continued calling him Bucky it’d soon turn into Buck and before he knew it he’d be 55 years old and have five pups across his lap. Distance, mental distance was what he needed. His body was lifted in the air, two arms braced under him. Physical distance wasn’t an option. Making sure to put on his best “really?” scowl he turned to look at Bucky who only replied with a peck to his cheek and a small smile. 

“Sammy,” that was new. And hot, only a fool would pretend his voice wasn’t sexy when he wasn’t all killer assassin mode, “Is your favourite bird the falcon?”

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out,” Sam deadpanned as he was placed on the couch. Before his neurons could even fire, Bucky already stretched the length of the couch and placed his head in Sam’s lap. Soft brown hair brushed against his hand as Bucky looked up at him. 

“Then let me tell you the story of the Falcon and the Fox.”

“That sounds like some shit you just made up and I bet it ends with the falcon wanting to get knocked up,” he glared as Bucky laughed, deep and rumbling. The man turned, pulling up the black cotton tee and put his face in Sam’s belly. Stubble ran across his soft skin with a few kisses placed near his navel. Sam resisted the urge to purr, as his hand landed in plush hair and pushed Bucky off him. Okay, the guy is already two hundred pounds of muscle plus a vibranium arm and Sam wasn’t exactly in peak form. So he pushed his head away from him. 

“I can provide you with everything you need. Be my mate, Sammy,” Bucky said putting his face right back where it was. 

“You can’t even provide me with calendar let alone natural light! I don’t even know what day it is, shit I don’t even know if you haven’t screwed up my perception of time completely and it’s actually seven a.m. but we’re eating dinner.”

“February 12th.”

“Excuse me?!” Sam yelled trying to get up but failing. 

“I know, Valentine’s Day is in two days and I haven’t gotten you anything yet. Do you like chocolate?”

“Cut the crap, Barnes! It’s 2015. Two months into 2015! I’ve been here almost three months!” The Battle of the Triskellion has been around December. Bucky had him since December. Almost three months and no one had found him yet, Steve hadn’t found him yet, “Wait a minute. Why haven’t I had a heat yet?”

Bucky looked up and blinked, “Suppressants in your food. Over the counter stuff. Thought you’d notice. You’re not ready to mate yet, I won’t make you go through a heat if you’re not ready,” Sam nodded. Over the counter suppressants were for omegas who as Mama Wilson put it “don’t wanna hide who they are”. They still carried their scent and could release pheromones but no heats. Not ideal for someone who spends their time surrounded by alphas, some completely knot-headed and others easily distracted. He still could remember how quick any scent caught the noses of the other pararescuers, even Riley would take a deep inhale when an unsuppressed omega passed by. 

“Bucky where are we? Just tell me where are we?” Sam pleaded. Bucky rolled off of him and walked to the kitchenette. He pulled out a cup and filled it with water from the sink. Water Sam would argue taste like iron and sadness which was why he prefered the conveniently unmarked water bottles Bucky brought back instead, “BUCKY!” 

“Far from anyone who can take you away from me,” Sam whimpered. That could mean anywhere from the Canadian wilderness to Australia, “It is for your protection.” 

The sound that leapt from his throat was half way between a Shakespearean character’s “HA!” and a broken cry, “Protect me from what? The most dangerous thing around me is you!” He stopped when he saw the hurt in Bucky’s eyes, “I didn’t mean it like that...” Sam winced when Bucky left without a word. He fucked up. Sam worked for the VA for crying out loud, he knew the guilt that came with PTSD, how much Bucky berated himself over the fact that during an episode he hurt Sam. He’d seen it happen, counselled vets that it happened to. 

Sighing he stood and walked towards the small bedroom he entered, peering inside he saw the Bucky cleaning his arm vigorously. The small steel wool between his fingers ground across the vibranium though it came out as clean as when it went in. Whenever he was upset he would do that, cleaning out the crevices no matter how many times he’d removed whatever remnants of gore were trapped between them.

Carefully he snuck in, ready to leave if Bucky blew up at him. He slowly climbed on the mattress and crawled until he was a short distance from the upset man. Deciding it was safe enough, he put a hand on top of Bucky’s, stopping him from scrubbing out the already clean nooks of his arm.   
“I didn’t mean it like that. That night wasn’t your fault. I said it without thinking. Look Bucky, you’d make a great mate,” Bucky perked up, “But not for me,” He deflated, “I’m not ready for pups and mating and all that. And I don’t want to raise pups in an underground bunker that I don’t even know the location of.”

“They’re looking for me and I’m pretty sure Rumlow isn’t dead so you can’t leave until I kill him. He’s dangerous and I don’t want you to get hurt, Sammy.”

“I was in the military! I fought you, Rumlow and a shit ton Hydra agents. I can take care of myself!”

“If you leave you won’t come back,” Bucky argued back.

“Look, let’s make a deal. I get to leave,” Bucky shook his head, “Lemme finish. If I leave now, you can protect me from the shadows or whatever, then when everything is okay again you can court me. Deal?” He was banking on this. If the combined efforts of Steve and Natasha couldn’t find him in three months then he had to get out on his own.

“Swear to me,” Sam blinked before nodding.

“I swear on,” Sam paused for a moment, “Steven Grant Rogers, that you have a fair chance to court me if and only if you let me go,” Sam said holding out his hand.

“Deal,” Bucky said grabbing it and pulling him forward. His entire world went dark.


	2. Back to Normal(ish)

“Okay, I’ll see y’all next week. Take care of yourselves,” Sam said waving by to the vets. He could still feel the questions in their stares. How they wanted to know where he was for months on end. An extended vacation just didn’t really cut it for them, especially when his description of Cabo was lacking in charm and finesse. He could barely tell his own friends what happened to him in that bunker let alone a few vets at the VA.

Grabbing his duffle bag, he walked to the locker room to change into his clothes to work out. Months away from the gym had turned him soft, his arms were thinner without the muscle he spent years packing on and his legs were even worse. If he ever wanted to fly again he needed to gain some of it back but then again Stark was crazy and talked endlessly about doing a revamp of his original design so maybe it would be less taxing on his body to use.

Entering the gym, he turned up his music and started doing his work out, allowing himself to get lost in the monotonous motions of his work out.

_“-am. Sam. Sam, wake up buddy,” the voice calling out to him cleared as his head left the cloudy limbo between consciousness. Finally opening his eyes, he winced at the natural light stung him and closed them again. A hand on his face, large and rough, tried to coax him into opening them again. He recognised the smell, sandalwood, he knew this alpha._

_He smelled something else, different but also familiar, spicier than the other one. Two alphas, two alphas he knew.  Cracking back open his eyes, two faces came into focus turning blurry beige ovals into the relieved faces of Steve and Natasha._

_Four hands helped him into a sitting position an he looked around seeing he was in the middle of a forest. The ground had snow but his body was warm; a coat buttoned all the way up and blankets underneath him. His hands ran on the knitted fabric keeping him off the ground before he truly realised something._

_He was outside._

_“What? Where’s-” He looked around trying to find Bucky, but even his scent was long gone. Feeling a nuzzle on his neck he sighed and smiled at Steve, “Get lonely without me?” He joked accepting the scenting. He wasn’t in a relationship with Steve, well not in a romantic one,  but he knew how much losing both him and Bucky (again) must have affected him._

_“You were gone for months, we thought Rumlow had you,” Natasha said smiling down at him. Though she wasn’t trying to make his entire body reek of anxious alpha, he could tell she was happy to see him._

_“It was Bucky, wasn’t it?” Steve asked gently from his place in the crook of Sam’s neck. He pulled back and looked at Sam with charged blue eyes. A swirl of emotion was in them with worry at the forefront._

_“Yeah, he was just trying to piece together the timeline. Asked me about current events and stuff like that. I’m fine,” he said with a smile, “I’ve also eaten nothing but pasta, eggs, and potatoes for months so can we get a pizza?”_

_“Sure buddy. But after we get out of Belarus.”_

Finishing his last rep he put his weights back on the rack and headed to the locker room for a well deserved shower. Under the lukewarm spray, he sighed. No matter how normal his life felt, even with the drop-ins by Steve and Natasha happening only on rare occasions (two or three times a months counted as rare considering the two of them practically moved in when they got back from Belarus) the deal he made with Bucky still pricked at the back of his mind.

Out of desperation, he agreed to be courted. It wasn’t a death sentence, he doesn’t have to let Bucky mate him or anything but knowing the ex-assassin he wouldn’t give up on him twice and he couldn’t go back on the promise he made either. His pride wouldn’t allow that.

Getting out of the shower Sam paused before shaking his head continuing out. Sam had never been shy. Ten VCR tapes documenting everything from his solos in the church Christmas and Easter pageants to a fifth grade play where he delivered an impromptu monologue because Jessica Alvarez forgot her lines proved that. But in ninth grade, when he was told by an alpha who had already presented that he smelt good which resulted in a bunch of other alphas crowding him, while he was only in a tank top and briefs, for a chance to smell an omega, he became a bit more bashful when it came to changing with others.

When he enlisted and got prescription suppressants with scent blocking properties and had to share close quarters with sometimes 7 other guys he got over it. But now, after weeks off his prescription and laziness over going to his doctor to get a new one that could take weeks with the test needed to formulate them, he continued to use over the counter ones. Which meant he smelled like an omega.

Walking in he could already hear the collective sharp inhale. Most men in the military were alphas, so most men in the VA were also alphas. A good percent of them with no mate.

“Sam, good to see you,” Sam nodded at Howie. He was an average sized man and another counselor at the VA, specifically with groups of vets that had lost limbs in battle as he was one himself. His left leg prosthetic was on the bench next to him as he hated getting it wet.

In the sea of unmated alphas, he was a beta with a wife and kids who made his personal mission to keep some of the more knotheaded guys away from his former junior counselor. Sure, Sam could handle himself but it was nice to know someone had his back.

“Hi Howie, how’re the kids?” Sam asked as he pulled on a shirt. The alpha staring at his chest wasn’t as slick as he thought he was.

“Angelo presented as an alpha last week! We were pretty surprised since Liz and I are betas, but my dad was an alpha so you know, genetics,” he explained shrugging. Sam liked a lot of things about Howie, but most of all that he was normal. Sure he also liked the fast paced lifestyle led by Steve and Nat, but it was also nice to indulge in civilian life.

“I hope dealing with his ruts won’t be hard on you two,” Sam added as he finished changing. The number of alphas around his locker bank had multiplied in the past few minutes. Some shyly trying to get a sniff while others pumped out pheromones in his direction.

“Yeah. The school’s do a pretty good job preparing him for that and they gave us some pamphlets for beta parents with alpha children. So I know _exactly_ how to handle a rowdy alpha if I need to,” Howie said glaring in the direction of a plucky blond who had taken a step towards Sam. Soon enough the small crowd dispersed, the stench of disappointment heavy in the air, “You’d think they’d never seen an omega before with the way they act. I don’t know how you handle it.”

“Me neither,” Sam said mockingly rueful, “I’ll see you around Howie.”

Walking out of the locker room Sam made his way through the halls of the VA but before he could make it outside someone cleared their throat behind him. Now, of course, he could pretend he didn’t hear them and continue on his way, but like a fool, he already stopped walking.

Turning around he cursed silently when he saw a familiar blond. He was pretty young compared to the rest of the men at the VA, late twenties, maybe thirty exactly. An attractive face, dazzling green eyes, and flowing hair that could rival Thor’s pulled back with a hair tie.

“Yes?”

“You’re the omega.” Sam’s brow creased at that. Not “an” omega, “the” omega. Sam was pretty sure there were some other omegas at the VA. Some of the volunteers and maybe even a few “betas” with scent blocking suppressants. So to be known as “the” omega was a little off putting.

“Yes, I’m an omega. Do you need something cause I’m trying to go home and I don’t get overtime for confirming my second gender,” he answered dryly. Inwardly he groaned as a smirk he knew all too well formed on the alphas lips. He’d been down this same road many times before.

“Well if you’re getting out of here how about we go together? I know a nice spot for an early dinner. And afterward, I’d love to show you my movie collection.”

“Not interested,” Sam coughed out. The air was thick with pheromones and he was sure that one of the staffers would come check it out soon.

“Aw come on-”

“Not. Interested.” Sam growled walking out of the door. His day was pretty good and he wasn’t going to let some kid who can’t take no for an answer ruin it.

                                                                                                            XX

They were pink. Pink and in a glass vase. Those were the first observations Sam made of the arrangement sitting on his porch. Well, it wasn’t exactly an arrangement, just one kind of flower. They were pink and reminded him of roses, but fluffier. Tucked inside of them was a card. Deciding to no longer linger on his porch inspecting flower vase like it was a bomb, he picked it up.

That’s when the smell hit.

It was the same earthy pine scent that covered him for weeks as he lived in that bunker. Rushing inside, Sam dropped the flowers on the counter and fished around inside until he found a card. Opening it he growled, no note. Just a scented card and some flowers. He didn’t even know what kind of flowers they were, let alone what they could mean and he doubted typing fluffy pink flowers into a search bar would help him here.

Taking his phone out of his pocket he snapped a good picture of the flowers before opening his and Natasha’s text conversation. Just as he was about to hit send on the picture he stopped. He needed a good cover, a solid cover.

Telling Nat that he got flowers and wanted to know what they meant was not good enough. She’d ask questions. Who are they from? What are they like? Are you going on dates? And if he said it was from someone he didn’t know, he could already imagine walking downstairs the next morning to find her sitting on his couch with the card in her hand and an interrogation ready for him.

He wasn’t mentally prepared to deal with that.

“How to find out what these flowers are,” Sam whispered his search inquiry to himself as he tapped it out on his phone. The first result was a flower database, exactly what he needed. Narrowing down the list by putting in all the categories he could answer, he was eventually met with a list of pictures of pink flowers. Not having to scroll for long he found it.

Pink camellias. Meaning; longing, given to someone who you missed and long to see.

His phone hit the floor with a dud as it slipped from his lax hands. It could’ve been nothing and everything. Schrodinger’s bouquet. Was it an update? Was he done? Was he coming? Is it just a reminder of their deal? Sam glanced back at the bouquet with uncertainty in his eyes as he tried to come up with an explanation for them.  

Getting up he shook his head. There was no point in stressing about it, he knew Bucky would come back one day, he didn’t seem like the type to fail. From its place on the floor, his phone began to vibrate. Glancing at the clock, he realised it was already half past six and knowing Steve “never miss a call” Rogers it was definitely him on the line.

Sure enough, the smiling face of his blond best friend was present on the screen.

“Hi Steve,” Sam said into the phone. What he heard surprised him. It was laughing, two people laughing. From what he knew Steve had gone on a solo mission doing God knows what for the last three weeks. But he always made sure to call at 6:30 pm because he had to make sure Sam was alright. (Sam thought it should have been the other way around but oh well.

So to hear him laughing with someone else was, well, weird.

“Sam, you’ll never believe what happened!” There was a few grunts, the sound of the phone hitting the ground and laughter, “In a second!” Steve’s voice was distant like he yelled to someone else, “I found him!”

“Found…” Sam led off. He knew exactly who Steve found. There was only one person who could try and wrestle a phone away from Steve like that.

“Bucky! I found Bucky! He’s alright and he remembers. We’re gonna stop by tomorrow if that’s okay with you. Bucky wants to thank you.” Sam cursed at Steve’s hopeful tone. He already had a hard time saying no to him and he knew Bucky didn’t want to “thank” him.

“Of course, you haven’t visited me this month anyway. I’ll make that lasagna you like,” Sam said with a tone that did not reflect his face. It all made sense now, the flowers were in preparation for his arrival.  

“Shit,” Sam cursed. He didn’t even have ingredients for lasagna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, comments and kudos always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> The title makes this sound much more serious than it's going to be lol. Hope you like it and plan to read more. Updates won't have a concrete schedule, sorry about that.


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